


Dean Winchester and the Babygate Scandal

by ChasingRabbits



Series: A Couple of Kooks [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Babies, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, shameless family fluff, thinly veiled sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:26:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingRabbits/pseuds/ChasingRabbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a month of keeping fatherhood under wraps, Dean's family finally finds out about the new addition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Winchester and the Babygate Scandal

Having a baby is nothing like what any sitcom has led him to believe. He’s up to his elbows in diapers all the time, he hasn’t slept in who knows how long, and he’s pretty sure that the spot on the sleeve of his jacket is indeed spit up. The only time he gets to sleep are during moments like this, when Cas takes Emma for a little while and Dean can just lie face down in his bed for a while.

It’s been a blur.

Not a blur because it’s going by so fast, but a blur because Dean has been up for edging on thirty hours now and he can’t fucking see two inches in front of his face.

For god’s sake, he misses the lock on the door six times before he finally manages it, and then of course turning the key is another issue entirely. He rubs the exhaustion from his eyes as he shuts the front door behind him, and can’t help but smile at the sight that awaits him.

Cas has Emma face down on the floor for something he calls “tummy time”. The sight of Emma in her little red, blue, and gold Wonder Woman onesie makes Dean’s chest swell. She’s started to hold her head up recently so she can now look at Cas, who is stretched out in front of her, a board book propped open in front of him.

“Well, no, I don’t think they’re intentionally trying to confuse you,” Castiel looks down at the book, eyebrow cocked. “I’m aware that horses are not blue, nor are cats purple, it’s just a tool for learning your colors.”

Silence, before Castiel replies, “Well, you’re just going to have to remember that not everyone is as advanced as you, sweetheart.”

“Hey, dweeb,” Dean greets, and Cas looks up at him.

“Dean, your daughter is being a smartass,” Castiel declares. “Here I am trying to verse her in the classics and she has the nerve to call Bill Martin Jr. a hack. And don’t even get me started on her thoughts on Eric Carle’s illustrations, we’ll be here all night.”

“Cas, what the fuck are you talking about,” Dean yawns and sits beside the two of them.

“I’m mostly just delirious,” Castiel rubs his eyes. Dean reaches over and wraps his hands around Emma’s tiny frame, carefully placing her into the cradle of his arms.

“Hey, baby girl,” he greets through a smile. “Daddy missed you.”

“What about me?” Cas is now face down in the book.

“Daddy missed you too, sugar tits,” Dean smacks Cas’ ass through his sweats, and snorts when Cas jumps. “Thanks for watching her, man.”

“It’s not a problem,” Cas sits up. He looks just as exhausted as Dean, if not more so. Cas has one of those jobs he can do remotely, for the most part. His boss wasn’t entirely understanding, but afforded Castiel the leniency he required regardless. Naomi isn’t heartless, just very particular.

“You should hit the sack,” Dean lets out a great big yawn.

“I have to finish my article,” Castiel sighs and moves so he and Dean are sitting kneecaps flush. Cas strokes the very fine wisps of hair atop Emma’s head and smiles.

Dean doesn’t know why he was so afraid that Cas would want them to leave. He and Cas have been attached at the hip since they were kids, and Cas is surprisingly good with Emma.

Well, maybe it’s not so surprising. His sister Anna has a little boy; his brother Michael has two boys. He used to babysit for the both of them, and sometimes Dean would tag along. Cas is good with babies. He’s a total dweeb with them, but he’s good with them nonetheless, and for whatever reason, that makes Dean’s caveman brain light up with all sorts of signals he’s been trying to stomp out since the eighth grade.

One of the first things he learned about Cas was that he liked guys. He was badass at DDR, he went to a private Christian school, and he thought the guy who worked the ticket counter at the arcade was cute.

It never bugged Dean, because why should something like that bother anyone?

What did bug him was that as soon as Cas started sleeping with people a couple years later, it became abundantly clear that Castiel has no discerning taste in other human beings whatsoever.

It’s not that he doesn’t want Cas to be with someone, he just wants Cas to be with someone who’s good enough for him, and being that Cas is one of the best people he knows, he’s yet to meet a suitable contender.

“Dean!”

Dean jerks his head up, snorting back into consciousness.

“What the fuck,” he huffs.

“You were falling asleep,” Cas sighs.

“Huh, how oddly human of me,” Dean grumbles. Cas rolls his eyes and rolls to his feet, stooping then to gather Emma into his arms.

“Dean, go take a nap.”

Dean groans and flops back on the floor. It’s the comfiest he’s been all day and it’s nearly impossible not to succumb to it.

“Here,” Cas says and wedges a pillow under his head. Dean lets out a moan and stretches out his limbs, only to have a heavy, warm weight settle on his chest. “A nap doesn’t get you out of tummy time,” Cas reminds him.

“Blow me,” Dean mutters, and opens his eyes. Emma is looking at his face, absolutely amazed. “Not you, sweetheart. Your asshole Uncle Cas is an… asshole.”

“Don’t try to be clever with her,” Cas winces at him. “You’ll derail all my teachings”

“C’mon, baby, get in daddy’s corner,” Dean whines. “Uncle Cas is killin’ me.”

Emma lets out a little screech, her preferred method of vocalization, and maybe smiles? It’s hard to tell; Dean can hardly see two inches in front of his face.

“Your papa’s being a baby, Em, don’t listen to him.”

Dean opens his mouth to retaliate, but his phone starts buzzing in his pocket and he lets out a whine that Emma, bless her, attempts to match. He grabs his phone and answers without looking at the screen, “What?”

“Wow, nice to talk to you too.”

Shit, “Hey Sammy. What’s up?”

“Uh, hadn’t heard from you in a while, so I figured I’d call,” says Sam. “Are you okay?”

Dean realizes he hasn’t replied in a long stretch when Sam’s voice blasts “ _Dean_ ” in his ear.

“Yeah, I’m up,” Dean snorts and pushes himself up on an elbow.

“Are you sleeping?”

“No,” Dean protests, just in time for Emma to start fussing on his chest.

“… Dean, what the hell is that?”

“Nothing,” Dean supplies immediately. “Must be on your end.”

“I don’t—“

“Gotta go, I’ll talk to you later,” Dean says over Emma’s first shrill cry and hangs up.

“Who was that?” asks Cas as Dean presses Emma into his chest and sits up.

“Sam,” Dean cradles Emma to his chest, trying to soothe her before he stands.

“Huh,” Cas sits at their card/dining table and opens his laptop. “Usually Sam keeps you on the phone for a lot longer.”

There’s a spike of panic in Dean’s stomach, but he doesn’t even get a chance to lie before Castiel says, “Oh my _god_.”

“What?”

“You haven’t told Sam,” Castiel accuses.

“What!” Dean’s voice breaks. “That’s fucking stupid. My… my daughter is a month old, what… why wouldn’t I tell my brother about her?”

“Dean!”

“What, like I’ve had time?” Dean challenges back. “I don’t see you—”

“This is not about me, Dean,” Castiel reminds him. “Call Sam back and tell him what’s going on.”

His phone starts buzzing in his hand again. Sam’s picture comes up on the screen.

Dean declines it.

“Dean, you have to tell him,” Cas insists.

“Well, we obviously have very different definitions of ‘ _have to’_ ,” Dean mutters.

“Mine is the correct one.”

Dean makes one more attempt to shush Castiel before he stumbles back into his room, very careful to keep Emma’s head from smashing into doorjambs and walls.

 He tries to set Emma down in her crib, but she is not having any of it. She wails every time Dean’s hands leave her, so he finally gives up and brings her to lie on his chest on his bed.

His phone buzzes with a barrage of texts from Sam, almost all equating to _PICK UP YOUR PHONE ASSHAT_.

Dean groans for what feels like he millionth time since he’s been home. Emma, intrigued by the bright screen of her daddy’s phone, makes a gurgling noise that Dean has learned means she’s more or less pleased.

“Hey, that’s pretty, huh?” he nods. “Wanna see something even prettier?”

Emma lets out a short, glottal noise of affirmation. Dean sets up his camera and snaps a picture of her looking at the phone, dazed. He smiles, “All right wait a second.”

He opens SnapChat and flips to the front camera, holding the phone so Emma can see herself on the screen. The look on her face is priceless, and even though it takes a few tries he manages to get a good picture.

“Uncle Sammy wants to know what’s up so bad?” he asks Emma. “Uncle Sammy can see what’s up.”

For five seconds.

“Let’s see,” Dean mutters. He captions the picture with a _‘hi uncle sam’_ and, because he’s so fucking delirious, thinks it’s the funniest thing ever. He even decides to draw in a little American flag behind her.

He thinks it’s funny even after he sends it, two, three, five minutes later, through peals of hysterical laughter.

“Christ, Dean,” he hears Cas chastise from the doorway. He’s vaguely aware that Emma has been removed from his chest and that the blinds on his windows have been drawn to shut out the afternoon light.

“Get some sleep,” Castiel orders before he shuts the door behind him.

Dean falls asleep to the sound of Castiel having a full blown conversation with his daughter—the last thing he remembers is Cas’ very insistent, _‘Yes I know it’s idiotic to expect integrity from film producers, but would it kill them to try?... That’s a fair point, I didn’t even think of that. Do you mind if I use some of that? Giving you full credit, of course_.’

“Fuckin’ nerds,” Dean mumbles to himself before the sandman knocks him out hard.

**oo**

It’s dark when Dean wakes up. A quick check of his alarm clock indicates that he’s only been out for about four hours, but it feels like it should already be the next day. He sits up and rubs his face with one hand, and checks his phone with the other. Just like that, he feels his stomach immediately bottom out.

There’s nothing.

No missed calls, no messages, nothing.

He figured he would be fucked, telling Sam about Emma like he did, but there’s nothing. SnapChat insists that Sam saw the picture right after he sent it, but that’s all he has to go on.

Dean feels his bowels go watery and he sits up. He pulls up a text to Sam, _‘dude im really sorry i didnt mean to tell you like that gimme a call’_

Nothing. And checking his phone every thirty seconds just to catch Sam’s reply as soon as possible is not helping anything either. Dean dials, but the line rings short and reroutes to Sam’s voicemail.

Sam has to be mega pissed to be ignoring Dean’s calls. Dean supposes he deserves it, because, yeah, it’s fucked up that he didn’t tell Sam before this. However, he would argue that it’s even more fucked up that Sam won’t even let him explain.

Dean rolls off his bed with a displeased grunt and shuffles out into the front room. Cas has Emma in his lap on the couch, Archie on the cushion beside them, the three of them channel surfing.

“Finish your article?” Dean rasps, anxiety setting a slight edge in his voice. Cas’ ears perk at the tone, his jaw immediately sets.

“Naomi gave me an extension,” Castiel replies, burying his nose in Emma’s soft wisps of hair.

It’s the goddamnest thing—as much as they pee and poop and spit up, the last thing you’d expect is for a baby to smell good, but damn, babies smell _good_.

Dean thinks it may be a caveman brain thing; Castiel likes to remind him that they are not cavemen.

“Did you have a nice nap?” asks Cas, and Dean sits beside him on the couch.

“Yeah, thanks for taking her,” he says. “She looks very pleased with her new chair.”

“Sorry, I only seat one comfortably,” Cas glances at him, and Dean smiles.

They catch eyes, and Dean, before he can stop himself, scoots a little closer.

“What’s on?” he asks.

“We’ve been watching QVC for the last hour,” Cas replies. “Your daughter is very fond of jewelry. Better take it easy on your papa; he’s  a big softie and will bend to your every whim.”

“As if,” Dean scowls and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. Cas’ knee knocks against his, so Dean knocks his right back.

“Look at that,” Cas gestures at the TV. “Emma, if I teach you nothing else, it’s that,” he points at the screen. “That is what we call _tacky_.”

“Ugh,” Dean rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him, baby girl, Uncle Cas gets to have a taste of the _finer things_ whenever he wants.”

Of course, then he realizes his phrasing and he shuts his eyes.

_Do not equate Crowley’s cock to the ‘finer things’, Winchester. Do not._

“Whatever,” Castiel pops a handful of M&Ms into his mouth. “You wish you were as good at sucking dick as I am.”

“What the fuck, where did you get M&Ms?” Dean decides to ignore the dick sucking comment and peers over Cas, hoping to get a glimpse of any other candy goods.

“Emma and I had an outing,” Castiel explains, and hands Dean his canvas shopping bag.

“Oh, _hell_ yes,” Dean pulls out a box of Good ‘n’ Plenty. “Dude, why get good at sucking dick when you treat me so damn fine anyway.”

“Well, then it’s just all about the pleasure of sucking dick,” Cas replies.

Dean snorts and tears open the box, shaking a few of the pink and white pellets into his hand. He holds them in front of Emma’s face for her to inspect.

“Baby girl, this? This is magic,” he says. “Daddy’s gonna eat all of them. You know what that means? It means your daddy’s gonna be a damn wizard.”

“It means that papa’s going to have the worst tummy ache known to mankind,” Cas whispers in her ear.

“Hey,” Dean pops the handful of candy into his mouth. “Don’t undermine me in front of the kid.”

“Apologies,” Cas rolls his eyes. “I didn’t mean to insult the Grand High Wizard of Terrible Candy.”

The argument is never worth it. No matter how lighthearted it starts out, Dean always ends up pissy about the damned Confectionery Inquisition that inevitably ensues.

Unable to sit still, Dean hops to his feet and starts to make some dinner. It’s Kraft mac ‘n’ cheese and some chicken nuggets that are shaped like dinosaurs (because Dean and Cas are fucking _adults_ , thank you), but Cas and Dean shovel their faces full regardless.

Dean’s not sure what he expected out of parenthood, but it definitely wasn’t this. He always figured that if he was going to have a family (and that was a very big ‘if’ to begin with), he’d get married first. He’d have a kickass wife, a kickass job, a kickass house… Instead he’s got a sardine can apartment, two shitty jobs, and a best friend who has one-sided conversations with a _baby_.

Although, maybe that’s unfair. Looking at Cas and Emma, so comfortable against one another, it’s hard to understand why he ever wanted it any other way.

A knock sounds on the door, startling all four of them on the couch. Archie barks out a warning as Dean rises to peer through the eyehole.

No _fucking_ way.

Dean pulls the door open and, sure as shit, there’s Sam standing right on his doorstep, nostrils flared and brow set in a firm, flat line.

“Jesus, all work and no play makes Sam a dull boy,” says Dean.

That earns him a swift sock to the shoulder.

“Ow!”

Archie starts barking

“You dick!”

“What the fuck, Sam!” Dean backs up as Archie continues to bark.

“What the fuck, me?” Sam’s eyebrows fly up on his forehead. “What the fuck _you_ , Dean.”

Emma chooses that exact moment to unhinge her jaw and greet her uncle with a lung-rattling, red-faced wail.

“Wow, thanks Sam,” Dean says over Emma’s cries. 

“Fuck you, thanks for telling me you have a kid over SnapChat,” Sam shoots back before Dean can shush him. Castiel rises from where he sits, Emma against his chest. He bounces her softly to get her to calm down, but it’s no use. Archie’s barking is just as relentless as Emma’s cries; Cas is just as pissed as she is. There’s no way this is going down smooth. 

“Here,” Dean reaches for her, and Cas passes her over. Dean presses her to his chest and hums softly in her ear. Sometimes that works, but it’s such a damn crapshoot there’s just no telling. 

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he reassures her. “No one’s mad at you.” 

He looks up at Sam as Emma starts to calm down, and fuck, Sam is just  _looking_  at him with those damn puppy eyes. 

“Shut up,” Dean mutters. “I’m gonna put her down.” 

Anything to get himself out of....  _this._

“I know he’s a giant honey, but he’s not like the scary one in your book,” Dean says. “He’s all bark and no bite, I promise.” 

Emma does not seem soothed by this, but she at least allows Dean to set her down in the crib. He leans over the edge and kisses her on the forehead. 

“Uncle Sammy’s a cupcake, don’t worry,” he says and then reaches up to turn on her mobile. Cas bought it, like he’s bought most of Emma’s stuff. He insists that it’s okay, because he can afford it, but it doesn’t sit right with Dean. 

The mobile is some clouds and a bunch of fat little bears with angel wings. When you wind it up, it plays a lullaby. Whatever the crap song it is, Emma is not into it. She much prefers when Dean sets his computer by her crib and plays her a couple of songs off of  _Rock ‘n’ Roll Baby_. 

Maybe because she just likes hearing him sing along to  _Sweet Child o’ Mine_. 

His door opens just as Emma drifts off. Sam pokes his head in, looking much calmer than he did just a few minutes ago. 

“Is she okay?” asks Sam softly. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Don’t worry, she’s a heavy sleeper.”

“Uh, can we talk?”

Shit. 

That’s never a good thing, coming from Sam. Dean sighs and pushes himself up to his feet, and, with one last glance at his baby girl, follows Sam back out to the front room. Cas’ door is shut and Archie is nowhere to be found, which means he must have just quit for the night. Not that Dean is surprised—Cas has been getting just about as much sleep as he has. 

“Dean, what the hell?” 

“You want a beer?” Dean counters, though he knows it’s a fruitless effort to attempt a topic change. 

“Does the beer come with an explanation as to how you’ve managed to come into custody of a child?” asks Sam.

Dean, in a stunning display of maturity, mocks him back. 

“Wow,” Sam nods, “Impressive.” 

“Shut up,” Dean twists the cap off his bottle and takes a long sip. It doesn’t taste as good as it should. “This chick I was seeing for a few months, she goes to school down at USC. Didn’t want the kid to ruin her aspirations or whatever.” 

“Cas already told me you knocked up a one-night stand,” Sam returns. 

“Then why the hell are you asking me!” Dean exclaims, clutching his bottle close to his chest. “Like I don’t have enough shit on my plate right now.”

“She’s a month old,” says Sam. “In what world do you live where you go a whole month without telling your own brother that you’ve got a kid?”

“We don’t talk that much,” Dean shrugs. 

“You didn’t even tell me you’d gotten someone pregnant,” Sam raises a prissy little brow, and Dean rolls his eyes. “Dean, I know you knew. What the hell?”

“She was gonna give the baby up,” Dean explains, maybe a little too loudly, but what the hell is Sam trying to get at? “I didn’t want to think about it, so I tried not to. Forgive me for not wanting to salt the wound every time I saw it.”

“Do Bobby and Ellen know?” Sam implores. 

Dean shifts. 

Yet another nut he hadn’t really wanted to crack. Bobby and Ellen, they’re basically his parents—they took in Sam and Dean after mom and dad died, after a whole year in boys’ homes. They were the first fosters that would take them as a set, and the only two stupid enough to actually keep them. 

He more than meant to tell them about Emma; it’s just one of those things that he hasn’t found the balls to do yet.  

“Dean?” 

“No, they don’t,” he mutters. 

“Christ, were you going to tell anybody!?”

“I told Cas,” Dean halfheartedly steps up to his own defense.

“You live with Cas.”

There it is.

_Bitch face._

“Yeah, imagine how awkward that woulda been,” Dean nods, but Sam does not find the humor in this. “Fine. You want me to say I was wrong? I was wrong. There. I know I was wrong, dickhead, I just…”

He sets his beer down on the card table and lets out a shaky breath. 

“God, Sam, babies do  _not_  sleep,” his voice cracks. “That, in there? That’s a lie. It’s a dirty lie. She’s faking every last bit of that, and she’ll wait. She’ll wait until I try to eat, sleep, take a dump…” 

“Well, babies kind of can’t do anything for themselves, dude,” Sam’s eyebrows pinch together. “Maybe you should skip the beer for now. You look really tired.”

“I am,” Dean nods. He would give anything to curl up in his bed and get a full eight hours again. Hell, he’d even go in there and climb into bed with Cas if it meant not having to deal with a wailing infant. 

Sam watches Dean plop down on the couch, but says nothing. The wind stolen from his sails, Sam looks at least a few inches shorter than when he got here with his shoulders squared and chest puffed out. 

Dean frowns. 

“How the hell’d you get here so fast?” he asks. 

“Drove,” Sam shrugs.

“Drove what?” asks Dean as he stands to check outside the window. He then remembers that he cannot see the street from this window and he flops back down on the couch. He is done with being this exhausted. 

“A car,” Sam supplies.

Dean musters up the energy to throw an appropriately fed up look at him. Sam rolls his eyes and then looks down at those massive flippers he calls feet.

“My girlfriend’s car,” he explains.

Dean, too tired to be surprised, smiles into the couch and sings, “Sammy’s got a girlfriend.”

“Shut up,” Sam mutters.

“You’re busting my ass for not telling you about my kid and you’ve got a girlfriend?” Dean asks the cushions against his face. “Looks like withholding runs in the family.”

“Dean, those two pieces of information are on vastly different planes of importance,” Sam folds his arms. “Dude, you have a _kid_.”

“Keep saying it,” Dean nods, brain starting to shut down from idling for so long. “I don’t got nowhere to be.”

“Shit,” Sam crouches beside him and smacks his cheek a few times to wake him back up.

“What,” Dean snorts. “Who’s… You are not Jenny McCarthy.”

“Astute,” Sam nods. “Dude, why don’t you go sleep? You look beat.”

Dean shakes his head, “Just got my full four hours. I’m… ready.”

Sam snorts, “Ready for what?”

“To party,” is apparently the wrong response. Sam hauls him to his feet and helps him into not his bedroom, but Cas’. Cas is already sacked out face down on his bed, not even in his pajamas or under the covers. Archie is parked firmly beside him, and lets out a low growl at the sight of Sam. When Sam doesn’t leave, he lets out a gruff bark, and jerks Cas out of his slumber.

“What the hell?” Cas’ glasses are askew on his face, his hair standing up every which way. Dean smiles at the sight.

“Move over, you’ve got company,” Sam says. Cas complies and inches over on the bedspread, allowing Dean just enough room to lie down beside him. “Don’t worry about Emma, okay? I’ll watch her.”

Dean sits up, “Emergency numbers are… on the fridge?”

“Mmhmm,” Cas mumbles into his pillow.

“She ate…”

“Two hours ago,” Cas supplies. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

“I’ve got it, dude, I promise,” says Sam. “Just sleep.”

Dean flops back onto the bed, and whines when Cas pats him on the chest and says, “Good boy.”

* * *

 

Sam owes Jess, big time. This is like, diamond tennis bracelet levels of favor. But since he’s a poor college student, maybe she’ll settle for unholy amounts of cunnilingus as repayment.

Plus, he’ll fill up the tank before he returns it to her, and maybe see if Dean can work out what the hell is making that rattle when the air comes on.

Not many sane people would let their boyfriend of two months borrow their car and haul ass halfway down the damn state, which leads Sam to believe that Jess is either the coolest sane person he’s ever met, or she’s actually coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs levels of crazy.

After putting Dean in bed with Cas, Sam retreats across the hall to Dean’s room, where soft lullabies play from Dean’s computer and Emma snoozes soundly. He sits on the floor beside her crib, as Dean had done when he found him earlier, and gets his first long look at his niece.

Holy crap, he’s an _uncle_.

That’s surreal.

That is, Sam always kind of suspected that Dean would end up with an illegitimate kid, because Dean is Dean and that’s just who he is. He didn’t expect that it would happen so soon. He’s barely starting his second year of college, for god’s sake, and here he is, looking at this little butterball that he didn’t even know about until six hours ago. 

She’s a chubby little thing, with a sweet round face and baby rolls. Asleep, she looks like the few pictures Sam has seen of Dean as a baby. They have the same mouth, the same ears, the same full cheeks.

“Hey, Emma,” Sam whispers. “I’m your uncle.”

Emma continues to sleep, and Sam pulls out his phone. He promised Jess he’d let her know when he got here. A quick text and, what the hell, a picture of his snoozing little niece.

Fuck, they’re right. The love is instantaneous.

_‘Aw, she’s adorable!’_

_‘Right? I don’t know how I feel about that.’_

_‘Shut up, be happy that she’s a little nugget of joy. I don’t care what anyone says, some babies just are not cute.’_

Sam snorts and leans his head against the bars of Emma’s crib.

On Dean’s computer, Sam logs into his campus email and informs his professors that a family emergency has come up and that he is out of town at least for the next few days. Just because his brother is a Grade A jackass doesn’t mean he has any excuse not to keep his professors informed.

After that he finds the articles he’s supposed to be reading for his sociology class, and downloads a few PDFs for his linguistics class, and though he can’t print them out he can at least take notes on a word document and email them to himself.

Before Sam realizes, it’s nearly midnight, and he’s got not only an empty stomach, but a very cranky, very smelly baby in the crib beside him.

“Crap,” he mutters and stands, stooping back down to gather Emma into his arms. She doesn’t like him at all, it seems. Or, maybe it’s the dirty diaper.

It’s probably the dirty diaper.

With Emma in one arm, Sam rifles through Dean’s room in a panic. He finds a stash of diapers and baby wipes, thankfully, but then realizes.

He’s never changed a diaper before.

Sam bounces Emma gently as he reaches for his phone and dials home. It’s a long shot, and it’s later in Sioux Falls than it is here, but—

“Sam?” comes Ellen’s voice, thick with sleep. 

“Hey, Ellen,” Sam tries to play it cool, but Emma will not stop crying. 

“Sam Winchester had best not be what I think it is,” Ellen warns. Sam lets out a sigh and looks up at the ceiling. This was a terrible idea, in retrospect. 

“Could you walk me through changing a diaper?” he asks, because it’s too late to back out now.

“Not until you tell me why,” Ellen says. “Bobby, get back to bed. I’ve got it. Sam, I’m waiting.” 

Sam sighs, “Dean has a baby.”

“… you wanna run that by me again?”

“Dean has a baby,” Sam repeats. “That’s pretty much all I know.” 

As Ellen launches into a rant, Sam hears Castiel’s door open and shut. He feels mildly relieved (although wrought with guilt anyway) when Cas shuffles out instead of Dean, and holds out his arms. Sam hands Emma over, and Cas kisses her on the forehead. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says. “Your papa is sleeping, we’ve gotta let him rest… I know, but he’ll work himself to death if we don’t look after him.”

“Sam!” 

Sam snaps back into the phone call, “Yeah, sorry. Cas came and got her, actually. He’s changing her, I guess.”

“Oh, Lord, if you tell me he got Castiel involved in this whole mess, I swear, I’ll paint that boy’s back porch red next time I see him,” Ellen sighs. “Where the hell is he?” 

“Asleep,” says Sam. 

“Let me talk to Cas.” 

Oh boy. That sounds the opposite of good. 

Sam returns to Dean’s room, where Cas has Emma on her diaper mat on the floor. They look to be in the middle of a conversation. 

“Uh, Cas?” Sam interrupts. 

Castiel looks up, dark bags under his eyes and squints, as though he’d forgotten all about Sam’s sudden presence. 

“Ellen wants to talk to you,” Sam explains and holds out his phone. Cas looks at the phone with an edge of terror in his eyes, but takes it anyway. He presses the speaker button and sets the phone down on the floor beside Emma. 

“Hello, Ellen.” 

“Cas, what the hell?” 

“Nice to talk to you too,” Cas yawns. “How are Bobby and Jo?” 

“Castiel, I swear, I am not horsing around,” Ellen snips. “I got my boy callin’ me at one in the morning asking how to change a diaper. You tell me what’s goin’ on right now, or you’re gonna get it worse than Dean next time I see you.” 

“That hardly seems fair,” Cas frowns, and Sam snorts. Cas’ level of fearlessness has always bordered on the edge of sanity.

“You’re in for it worse because you know better, young man,” says Ellen. “You let him go nine months without telling any of us about this?” 

“I was under the impression that he at least informed you,” Castiel says as he moves effortlessly through the steps of getting Emma cleaned up. “He didn’t know until January. The young woman he slept with told him that she would be putting the baby up for adoption. If Dean had thought anything else, he would have said something to you. It seemed to me that he just wanted to forget it, so I didn’t press the matter.”

“How diplomatic,” Ellen sighs. “So why the hell does he have her?” 

“Lydia did what most young people do when they’re frightened,” says Cas. “She ran. She left the hospital Dean’s information and took off. She hasn’t contacted us since.” 

Ellen heaves another sigh. 

“All right, missy,” Castiel buttons Emma back into her onesie and picks her up. “All cleaned up and ready to go. Emma, say hello to Ellen.” 

Emma gurgles, and Sam smiles. He sits down beside the two of them, only noticing Ellen’s silence when she breaks it. 

“Emma?” 

“Yes,” Cas replies, “Born July twenty-ninth.” 

“Oh, wow,” Ellen’s voice softens. 

“I know, like we need a Leo in this family,” Cas rolls his eyes. Sam actually laughs at that.

“Dude, you’ve been writing for that teen rag for way too long,” he says. 

“Regardless,” Cas shoots him a look. “Now that she’s not fresh out of the womb, she’s a lot cuter. I thought she was cute the first time I saw her, but…” 

Cas trails off. He looks down at Emma with the same awe and adoration as a parent would. 

Oh, boy.

“Um, Ellen, I’m really sorry I woke you,” says Sam. “And I’m sorry Dean wasn’t the one to tell you.”

“It is what it is, sugar,” Ellen clears her throat. “You tell Dean he’d better call me tomorrow if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam chuckles. 

“And Castiel, thank you for lookin’ after Dean,” Ellen says. “You’re a good egg.” 

“Thank you, Ellen,” Cas’ lips quirk up at the corner. “Emma, say goodbye to Grandma Ellen.” 

“All right, now you’re just bein’ a smartass,” Ellen quips back. “Love you boys.”

“Love you too,” Sam and Cas chorus, and Sam ends the call. 

Cas stifles a yawn against the back of his hand.

“Ah, crap,” Sam rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I woke you too.”

“It’s all right,” Cas offers him a smile. “I don’t need much sleep.”

“Yeah, but you need some,” Sam frowns. “Don’t let Dean rub off on you too much, dude.”

Sam sees a saint smile cross Cas’ lips, but he says nothing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Dean has always made Castiel’s heart beat a little faster, just like Castiel has always had some sort of similar effect on Dean. The problem first was that Cas was so much _older_ than Dean. As kids, it’s _weird_ for a fourteen year old to be hanging out with a twelve and eight year old. Dean and Cas are two people who more than abide weird, but even they have their limits.

Cas started dating guys when he was sixteen – even if Dean had been aware of his feelings, Sam doesn’t think either of them would have followed through on anything with each other.

They’re adults now, though. Dean has been here with Cas for five years, and quite honestly, if they’re not fucking then Sam has to sit down and have a serious talk with them.

“Have you talked to him?” asks Sam.

Cas pulls his attention up from Emma and cocks his head.

“Cas, c’mon, I’m not stupid,” Sam levels a look at him.

Cas sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “There are more pressing issues here, Sam,” he says. “I haven’t talked to him because I know what he would say. His first priority became his daughter the second he got that phone call. There’s no room for anything else in his life right now.”

“Dude,” Sam finds himself saying, the ache in his chest instantaneous. “You’re not just ‘anything else’ to him, you know that. You’re you, Cas. You’re family, okay, you’re just as important to him as I am, as Bobby and Ellen and Jo are, and now Emma.”

Cas gives him a smile that suggests he doesn’t believe a word Sam says, but he smiles anyway and says, “Thank you, Sam.”

Silence falls between them, and so Sam asks, “Can I feed her?”

Cas checks the clock on Dean’s nightstand and nods, “Yes, it’s about that time, isn’t it? I know Uncle Sam looks ginormous, but he’s quite gentle. BFG Uncle Sam.”

“Shut _up,”_ Sam rolls his eyes. Suddenly it’s his fault that he shot up like a weed.

Cas stands and leads Sam out to the kitchen, where he shows him around. The bottles are here, the formula is there; if you’re going to heat up the formula you _have_ to test it on your arm first so you don’t scald her.

“I’ve got it, dude,” Sam chuckles. “You should get back to bed, you look like you’re fading fast.”

Cas hums, and then dissolves into a yawn.

As soon as Cas is back in his bedroom, Sam gives Emma a look, “Don’t tell anyone, but your dads have got it bad for each other.”

 

* * *

It’s not the first time Dean has woken with Cas’ arm slung around his waist, and it’s not going to be the last.

Dean remembers plenty of sleepovers that ended with both of them in the same bed, talking quietly with one another while everyone else slept. He remembers waking up the next morning with some part of Cas draped over him, as though he were poised and ready to attack anything that dared come for Dean in the night.

He shifts and so does Cas.

“You up?” Dean whispers.

Cas hums back.

“How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” Cas yawns. “What time is it?”

Dean grunts, too comfy to check.  He lets Cas’ grip on him tighten, and maybe even rolls closer into his body heat.

His eyes shoot open then and he sits bolt upright.

“Where’s Emma?” he asks.

“With Sam,” Cas rolls over and props himself up on an elbow. “Dean, relax, I walked him through everything last night.”

Dean rolls over him—wait, why is he on the other side?

“Did you get up last night?”

“Yeah, Emma needed her diaper changed,” Cas yawns again, this time into his pillow.  “You were out, you didn’t even budge.”

“Shit,” Dean sighs. The last thing he needs his daughter thinking is that anything is more important to him than her. He darts out of the room and into his own, where he finds Emma asleep in her crib and Sam sprawled out on his bed, a tangle of long limbs and bed sheets. He lets out a soft sigh of relief.

Dean looks at the clock beside his bed.

Six in the morning.

He doesn’t have work until nine.

All seems to be suspiciously… well.

He could go back to sleep. He should go back to sleep. At this point, there’s no telling if he’ll ever catch up on his rest, but he can sure as hell try, right?

Sam’s phone, lying on Dean’s nightstand, starts to buzz. A quick look at the screen and Dean’s heart freezes. It’s Ellen.

He can’t not answer it.

But at the same time, what the hell is he supposed to say?

He grabs the phone and takes the call.

“Hello?”

“… Dean?”

“Hey, Ellen,” Dean crosses his arms over his chest.

“You got anything you wanna tell me?”

Dean’s stomach bottoms out.

 _Sam_.

“That fuckin’ weasel,” he mutters.

“Hey,” Ellen barks. “He’s a good boy. And he had the stones to tell me about my granddaughter, thank you very much.”

Dean groans.

He knew letting Bobby and Ellen adopt him and Sam was going to come around and bite him in the ass someday.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” Ellen demands.

“I wasn’t!” Dean exclaims, only to realize too late that, right, Sam and Emma are both asleep. He drops his voice as he exits the room, “I didn’t think, okay? I had a baby dropped into my lap, things haven’t exactly been smooth sailing here.”

“This is a big deal, Dean,” Ellen insists. “You don’t just get to ‘ _oh, by the way_ ’ a child.  Were you just hopin’ we wouldn’t notice that you never talked to us again?”

Dean sighs and hangs his head, “No, ma’am.”

“Can it with the ‘ma’am’, I’m not interested in your suckin’ up crap.”

“Sorry,” Dean purses his lips. “I had to get another job, okay? The record store wasn’t cutting it. Now I gotta look after a baby, look after Cas, I gotta make sure I actually get some face time in with my daughter every day since I’m working almost fifty hours a week… I’ve had kind of a full plate, so everyone’s just gonna have to cut me some slack. I’m sorry I haven’t had time to tell anyone.”

“Lord, Dean,” he can _hear_ Ellen’s eyes roll from here. “You want me to nail you to the cross now, or should I wait until Friday?”

“Ha-ha,” Dean snarks back. “You’re hilarious.”

“And you’re a damn fool if you think pulling the martyr act is gonna get you anywhere,” Ellen snaps. “Just like you said, you got a baby to look after now. And if I know you like I think I do, you’d better pray you don’t let any of what you just said get back to your daughter. I swear to God, if you put even one ounce of guilt on that child’s head I will come there and smack your teeth out of your head.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean repeats.

“Good,” she says. “Now make yourself a pot of coffee, shower, eat some breakfast, and go to work.”

Dean lets out an audible, “Ugh.”

“Hey, nobody ever said bein’ a provider is easy,” she says. “Sacrifice responsibility for one night and you land yourself with eighteen years of nothin’ but.”

Dean takes in a shaky breath and blows it out.

“Dean,” Ellen says then. “Sweetheart, you’re fine. If anyone can do this, you can.”

A smile, “Thanks, Ellen.”

He hangs up and goes to replace the phone on his nightstand. He looks down into Emma’s crib and sighs. That little nose, those pudgy little hands and feet, her round little belly.

Eighteen years of responsibility may not be as tedious as it sounds.

 


End file.
